PS 3529 
.S2 P5 

1908 
Copy 1 





Class ^y^vf^^iv^^ 

Book S-^J^5Z 

Copyright N" //^^f 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 



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• :;«■'■' ^/'.'■'..'••/.//v.-'i 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

A West Coast Romance — The Green Diamond 
Clothilde of Montmartre — The Hills of Gold 
McLennan' s Little Girl — A Point of Honor 
In the Gardens of the Dawn Flowers 
Jean Paul — Limjpy, Bachelor of Love 
The Stress of Impulse — ''Slivers" 
The FitzGerald of BaUyowen, etc. 



PIPE 


DREAMS 


A. 


BY 

VAGRANT 




BOSTON 

GEO. H. ELLIS CO., PUBLISHERS 

1908 



\ wo OOPIM rt«;Mv«i« 

JUL 3i lyub 

CLASSi ^ AXC< No. 
COPY B. 



I"! 



.f 



Copyright, 1908, 
By Geo. H. Ellis Co. 



PRESS OF GEO. H. ELLIS CO., BOSTON, MASS 



To those indulgent readers who have professed to 

find these random verses not wholly lacking that 

" touch of nature that makes the whole icorld kin" 

this book is gratefully dedicated 



APOLOGY 

CFor any lack of literary exactitude, for limping rhythm 
and faulty metre, the writer of these verses begs indul- 
gence. They were for the most fart horn of the mood 
of a moment, in the inky atmosphere of a press-room, 
and set to paper between whiles of assignments. If they 
touch, however gently, the vibrant chord of memory, if 
they bring a smile to weary lips, if they draw one lonely 
soul for a brief half-hour nearer to its fellows, their 
purpose will have been accomplished. Since most of the 
poems now gathered here together have in past years 
taken their message (if indeed they bear one) to lonely 
mining camps and smoky foc's'les and farm firesides o' 
winter evenings, the writer has not deemed it wise to 
''polish^' them, — indeed, he has not had the heart to. 
With all their imperfections, — which are many, — with 
their excellences, alas! too feiv, he sets them forth 
again on a fresh voyage, hoping they may reach some 
friendly haven. 

Maitland LeRoy Osborne. 

Everett, IVIass., June, 1908. 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

C To the editors of the jollowing papers and magazines 
I ivish to make grateful acknowledgment for their kind 
permission to republish most of the poems gathered 
together in these pages: ''The Bohemian J' ^' The Brown 
Book,'' ''The National Magazine,'' '' Modern Women," 
''Every Other Sunday," Boston; ''The Iron Trail," 
Minneapolis; "The Sun," New York; ''Wayside 
Tales" Chicago. m. l. o. 



CONTENTS 

r 

PAGE 

Only a Pipe 1 

In the Fall 2 

Since You ivere Just a Little Girl 8 

''Taps!" 5 

With Love and You in the Latin Quarter 7 

Lullaby 9 

My Old Briar Pipe and I . . . 10 

Bobby's Christmas Present 12 

Shadows on the Wall 13 

Fni Sorry, Dear! 14 

The Nation's Dead 15 

When Love ivas Young 16 

Where the Farm-house Stood 17 

Christmas Bells 19 

When the Ice is out of Rangeley 21 

At the Pasture Bars 23 

The Maid ivho Waits for Me 24 

Firelight Fancies 25 

The Age-long Plaint 26 

The Iron Trail 27 

Daphne 28 

While Madge and I are Swinging 29 

The Unknown Land 30 

The VetercLn's Call to Arms 31 

En Passant! 32 

Mother Earth 33 

Tale of the Ancient Mariner 34 

Triolet 37 

That Summer Long Ago 38 

Frisco's Prayer 40 

The Patriot 41 

Whut's de Use? 42 

In the Time of the Harvest Moon 43 

The Same Old Season 44 

[ix] 



iflpt^t^Pl PEP R E A n S Cglt3C?Jtiti 



PAGE 



Batistes Beeg Feesh 46 

Recompense ^ 47 

Coy Fame 48 

Ruth 49 

The Point of View 50 

The Men of Fortij-Mile 52 

Mollie Dear 53 

Quatrain 54 

The Master Power 55 

Neiv England's Hills 56 

O Washinee 58 

'"'Vanity of Vanities'" 60 

The Waves Along the Shore 61 

Protest 63 

The Chiefest Gift 64 

On the Old Barn Door 65 

Let's Go A-flshing 67 

The Girls We've Loved 69 

Valentine 71 



[-■<] 



PIPE DREAMS 





ONLY A PIPE 

NLY a pipe! I can hear you say; 
Yet this bit of battered, blackened clay 
Has shared my sorrows for many a day, 
And joys, as well. 



Only a pipe ! Blackened and old. 
Yet I can laugh at lack of gold. 
At unkind Fate, at friends grown cold — 
Under its spell. 

Only a pipe! Had I red wine 
To warm my heart, and raiment fine, 
Would I forsake this pipe of mine ? 
I cannot tell. 

Only a pipe! There are loftier things 
To love — like gold, that oft grows wings, 
And gives not peace, which my pipe brings — 
I love thee well. 



[1] 



Ct][t3[t3Ct3[t] PIPE DREAMS it^lV^Pt^ 



IN THE FALL 

You can hear the partridge drumming 

In the Fall; 
And the wild bees' drowsy humming 

In the Fall; 
Then Jack Frost, with elfin touches 
Of his magic hues and brushes, 
Will suffuse the leaves with blushes 

In the Fall. 

The stars shine brighter, clearer. 

In the Fall; 
As the Ice King's reign draws nearer, 

In the Fall. 
Then will come the kitchen dances, 
Where for kisses there'll be chances: 
'Round some girl you'll weave sweet fancies 

In the Fall. 

The grain hangs ripe for shocking 

In the Fall; 
You can see the wild geese flocking 

In the Fall. 
Then the evenings will grow longer. 
And the old folks will be fonder 
Of the cosey kitchen corner. 

In the Fall. 
[2] 



Ct][t][t3[t3Ct3 PIPE DREAMS im^mn^ 



SINCE YOU WERE JUST A 
LITTLE GIRL 

When you were just a little girl, 

And I a boy — a boy, 
The world was such a wondrous place! 

So full of joy — of joy, 
That we could scarcely spare the time 

From play to sleep and eat. 
And chattered like two magpies then 

Whene'er we chanced to meet. 

The blithesome years danced lightly by, 

And you — a maiden fair — 
'Mid rose-hued dreams of romance moved 

And had your being there. 
Each winged year had brought to me 

Its evanescent joy. 
But left me still, alas the while! 

Left me an awkward boy. 

Still Time's dread finger beckoned us 
Where Life's broad river ran. 

Till you were grown a woman, dear, 
And I a man — a man. 

And stood at last within the door 
[3] 



[t3CTOcTO PIPE DREAMS C^DC^XgxTO 

That bears the scroll above: 
"Who enters here walks hand in hand 
With Faith and Hope and Love." 

The sunset shadows gather o'er 

The pathway we have trod: 
Oft-times the way was strewn with stones, 

Oft-times 'twas velvet sod; 
And yet we've gleaned, dear heart, our share 

Of Life and Love and Joy 
Since you were just a little girl 

And I a boy — a boy. 



[^] 



CgJtltXgi:^ PIPE DREAMS cMx^CgJt] 



"TAPS!" 

They are marching with a halting step,— 

A halting step and slow ; 
And many in those blue-clad ranks 

Have hair as white as snow: 
Their youth lies on the battlefields 

Of forty years ago. 

The faded, tattered flags they bear, 
All torn by shot and shell, 

Are sacred emblems of the dead 
Who loved their country well: 

How great their love and sacrifice 
No human tongue may tell. 

Those serried ranks are thinning fast 
That once with martial tread 

The knapsack and the musket bore 
Where Grant and Sherman led: 

Their sleep is sound and peaceful 
In the bivouac of the dead. 

No more the reveille at dawn 

Shall rouse them from their sleep, 
No more shall wives and sisters mourn. 

No more shall mothers weep: 

[5] , 



CtXgXgXgXg3PIPE PRE AnSCg3C!x!lM3 

Their names upon the roll of Fame 
Time's hand has graven deep. 

And some lie on those hard-fought fields 
Where now the Blue and Gray 

Clasp hands across the battle lines 
Their blood has washed away : 

Where once the tide of battle flowed, 
Their children's children play. 

The passing years speed swiftly, 

x\nd silence round them wraps; 

And to their listening ears there comes 
No sweeter song, perhaps, 

Than when the battered bugle sounds 
Again the old call,— ''Taps!" 



[6] 



CTOC!3C^^ PIPE DREAMS [t^C^C^CtjCt] 



WITH LOVE AND YOU IN THE 
LATIN QUARTER 

I dream to-night of the olden days — 

Those golden days in the Latin Quarter — 

When Love was guide in the pleasant ways 
Where strayed our feet in the Latin 
Quarter. 

You were the model, young and gay, 

Who posed for me in the Latin Quarter, 

And taught me love in the olden way 

That lovers love in the Latin Quarter. 

Your pictured face on the canvas grew 

Beneath my brush in the Latin Quarter, 

While in my heart my love for you 

Grew fairer still in the Latin Quarter. 

The purse we shared was thin and lean. 

And meals were scant in the Latin Quarter : 

The clothes we wore were old and mean — 
But what cared we in the Latin Quarter! 

For love was ours, and a sweet content 

With life had we in the Latin Quarter; 

And when we fasted to pay the rent 

'Twas but a jest in the Latin Quarter. 

L7,] 



Itlppt^ PIPE DREAMS CTOc^3Cgi:^ 

The parting came, as the parting must, 

To those who love in the Latin Quarter: 

I left you there, as lovers must 

Leave those they love in the Latin Quarter. 

But, dreaming now of those olden days — 

Those golden days in the Latin Quarter — 

When Love was guide in the pleasant ways 
Where strayed our feet in the Latin Quar- 
ter, 

I can't believe — as some might hold — 

That our love was wrong in the Latin 
Quarter : 

Young hearts will love till the world grows old, 
And love was sweet in the Latin Quarter. 



[8] 



Jt^[pV(t^lt\ PIPE DREAMS Ipt^^M^t^ 



LULLABY 

Sleepy eyes are winking, winking; 
One by one the stars are blinking; 
Now 'tis time, mamma is thinking, 
Baby Blue should be in bed. 

Rosebud mouth is yawning, yawning; 
Lest she oversleep the dawning. 
Comes the sandman with the warning 
"Baby Blue should be in bed!" 

Tiny fingers clutching, clutching, 
Mamma's loving lips are touching — 
At her tender heart-strings clutching: 
Baby Blue must go to bed. 

Mamma's voice is crooning, crooning, 
O'er her baby in the glooming, — 
Tender lullabies she's crooning: 
Baby Blue has gone to bed. 



[9] 



Ipt^!t^lt^?\ PE DREAMS rf^M^t^ 

MY OLD BRIAR PIPE AND I 

We loaf along the woodland way, 

My old briar pipe and I, 
Past meadows sweet with new-mown hay 

And billowing fields of rye. 

We seek a moss-grown, shady nook, 

My old briar pipe and I, 
Where babbling o'er the stones the brook 

Goes glinting swiftly by. 

Like choice bouquet of rare old wines. 

My old briar pipe and I 
Breathe in the fragrance of the pines 

Beneath the summer sky; 

And, while the curling smoke ascends. 

My old briar pipe and I 
Quaff deep the joy contentment lends, 

And let the world go by. 

The sylvan dramas of the woods delight 
My old briar pipe and I : 

We watch the robin, gay bedight. 
And shy brown mate steal nigh. 

[10] 



j:fjr^tn^^ PIPE DREAMS CTOcpc^ 

Their nest swings low in yonder beech : 

My old briar pipe and I 
Sit very still, and watch them teach 

Their nestlings how to fly. 

The musquash on the sedgy bank 

My old briar pipe and I 
(While lunching on the sweet -flags rank) 

Oft scans with doubting eye. 

A squirrel chatters from a limb : 

My old briar pipe and I 
Would fain become firm friends with him 

If he were not so shy. 

The woodland way is cool and dim: 

My old briar pipe and I 
Give grateful praise and thanks to Him 

Who paints the summer sky. 



[11] 



CtiftiCtjCTO P I P E PRE AMS[t3C^C!lt]C^ 



BOBBY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT 

Say ! I've got a present up to my house 
Santa didn't bring for me; 

Mamma says she thinks th' angels 
Left it on my Chris 'mas tree. 

Mamma calls it "little sister," 

An' she hugged me awful tight 

While I said my prayers, an' kissed me 
'Most a hundred times last night. 

Little sister's awful funny, 

She don't care a mite for toys ; 

Guess she wants to sleep, for Nurse says, 
"Now you mustn't make a noise!" 

An' say! I'm dreadful lonesome: 
Mamma used to play with me; 

But she don't since little sister 

Came upon my Chris'mas tree. 



[12] 



rptlflflf} PIPE DREAMS C!3Cg3Cg3C!Jt] 



SHADOWS ON THE WALL 

W^hen o'er the hills and woods and streams 

the shades of evening fall, 
The dancing flames within the grate throw 

shadows on the wall ; 
And pictured there we see the past — gone now 

beyond recall — 
In the mystic, magic limning of the shadows 

on the wall. 

Merry years and sad years, dreary years and 
glad. 

Trooping past, remind us of the joys we may 
have had; 

Joy times and sorrow times, love and friend- 
ship rare, — 

Memories sweet and tender of the sorrows we 
must bear. 

Baby feet come pattering — careful, lest you 
fall! 

Baby laughter sweetly rings adown the dark- 
ening hall. 

Baby voices silent, breaking heart and all, 

Are pictured there before us in the shadows 
on the wall. 

[13] 



C!3C^C^C^ PIPE DREAMS CgXgltiM^ 

Dark days and bright days, gladsome days and 

drear, — 
Days that brought the parting from the ones 

we held most dear; 
Sunshine and sorrow — dreaming of the past 
Brings to mind sweet memories of the joys 

that do not last. 



I'M SORRY, DEAR! 

If, in the cares of every day. 
My thoughts from you have seemed to stray. 
And I have failed in word or deed 
Perchance to show the constant need 

I have of you; 
If I have caused a tear to start, 
If I have bruised your loving heart, — 

I'm sorry, dear! 



[14] 



r:^[t]Cg3Cg3C^ PIPE DREAMS Ipflpt^ 



THE NATION'S DEAD 

** Where lie the dead, Sentry?" 

"They lie yonder on the hill: 
The stars look down upon their rest, 

The night wind groweth chill; 

But the flag that led them proudly waves, 

For brave men follow still." 

"How fell the dead. Sentry?" 

"They fell fighting for the right: 

They followed at the heels of Death, 
Nor looked to left or right; 
And their country's grateful memory 
Shall keep their honor bright." 

"How lie the dead. Sentry?" 

"The dead lie very still: 
The moon shines soft and tender 

O'er their graves upon the hill, 

While lone mothers weep in silence, 

As mothers ever will." 

"How sleep the dead. Sentry?" 
"The dead sleep very sound: 

The graves upheaved on yonder hill 
Have made it hallowed ground, 
And on the lips of unborn time 
The heroes' names shall sound." 

[15] 



rpt^M^it^ PIPE D R EAriS^^^rt3Ct3 



WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG 

She sang a song of the olden time 

When Love was young and the world was 
fair, 
And the moonbeams shone with a silver sheen 
On the rose that glowed in my true love's 
hair. 

I dreamt, 'neath the spell of the fresh young 
voice. 
That my heart was as blithe as in days of 
yore, 
That the scent of the rose in the air hung 
sweet 
While I walked by my true love's side 
once more. 

The singer paused, and my dream had fled: 
The rose long since on the hearth was 
flung. 
The moon has waned; but my heart still 
glows, 
For Love, sweet Love, must be always 
young. 



[16] 



[t]cg][ti[t3cg3 PIPE DREAMS Cticg^C^cgit] 

WHERE THE FARM-HOUSE STOOD 

When I'm feeling old and weary, 
And the world seems sad and dreary, 
And the sun shines not as brightly as it 
should. 
Then my thoughts will often roam 
To my boyhood's happy home. 

And recall loved scenes of childhood 
Where the farm-house stood. 

I hear the rumbling mill. 
Nestling low behind the hill. 
By the river in the shelter of the wood; 
And see the shady lane. 
Winding past the fields of grain. 

And the sweet wild roses blooming 
Where the farm-house stood. 

There's the gnarled old apple-tree: 
How the flavor comes to me 
Of the golden russet apples that always tasted 
good! 
And the flag-root still must grow 
In the meadow wet and low, 

As when I played in childhood 
Where the farm-house stood. 
[17] 



CgXglM3[t3 PIPE DREAMS CglCgXtjc^ 

There's the school-house, painted red, 
Where the master — ^long since dead — 
Taught us the love of learning and of good; 
And the little old white church. 
In the shadow of the birch, 

Whose Sabbath summons reached us 
Where the farm-house stood. 

In the quiet churchyard lies — 
'Neath the kindly summer skies — 
The sweetheart of my childhood, so gentle, 

sweet, and good; 
Though she's slept so many years, 
I can scarce keep back the tears 

When her spirit seems to greet me 
Where the farm-house stood. 

When Death closes Memory's door. 
And my weary work is o'er, 
I'd like to rest beside her in the churchyard 
near the wood: 
When the angels' harps shall ring 
And the hosts of heaven sing. 

Hand in hand once more we'll 
wander 
Where the farm-house stood. 



[18] 



p^_o— p^q^-,o^p,Q^ 



[MlM3[t3PIPE PRE ANScy3C^JV3Cr3[Y3 

CHRISTMAS BELLS 

Far away, like fairy bugles, sound the joyful 

Christmas chimes, 
And the night wind, hushed, expectant, bears 

the tale of ancient times, — 
Bears the legend of the manger, and the old 

sweet story tells 
In the softly swelling murmur of the distant 

Christmas bells. 

Now the rhythmic throb of organ, with its 

diapason vast. 
Joins the chorus of the church bells with their 

message from the past, 
Till the very air is vibrant, as the sacred 

music swells 
With the glad triumphant psean of the joyful 

Christmas bells. 

Far at sea the sailors wonder, as the stars 
gaze down on them. 

If 'twas one among that number hovered over 
Bethlehem; 

But in vain they hark and listen for the mes- 
sage of the bells, — 

For the sweet and solemn message of the dis- 
tant Christmas bells. 
[19] 



Ipt^t^M^ PIPE DREAMS Cg3Cg3[t][txg3 

The cow-boy's lonely vigil on the vast and 
silent plain 

Gains a new and solemn meaning as the Star 
shines out again, 

And he bares his head to listen for an echo of 
the bells, — 

For an echo of the music of the joyful Christ- 
mas bells. 

And the weary, toiling miner, in the darkness 

under ground, 
Leans upon his pick to listen for a whisper of 

the sound, — 
For the night wind's solemn message when 

the waiting world it tells 
The story of the Christ Child in the joyful 

Christmas bells. 

From the palace with its pleasure, from the 

hovel with its pain. 
Sounds anew the Psalm of Ages, — men are 

brothers once again; 
Children's voices swell the chorale, all the 

world is joyful then. 
While the bells peal out their greeting, "Peace 

on earth! Good will to men!" 



[20] 



mmjt^ PIPE DREAMS itnn^^tw 



WHEN THE ICE IS OUT OF 
RANGELEY 

When "the ice is out of Rangeley," 

How our hearts begin to leap, 
As the waters stretch and waken 

From their ice-bound winter's sleep! 
And we dream of speckled beauties 

Waiting, hungry for our lure, 
And the swing of six-ounce trout rods 

With a steady hand and sure. 

Then our fingers feel the paddle. 
And our faces feel the sun. 

And our pulses beat the measure 

When we "meet them on the run." 

Oh, "the ice is out of Rangeley!" 

Flash the message far and wide! 
Time to gather at the killing 

With canoe and rod and guide, 
Time to drop all care and hasten 

By the swiftest train, and sure, 
Where the hungry trout are waiting 

For our never-failing lure. 
[21] 



Cglt3[tlM3 PIPE DREAMS [ticTOcTO 

When ''the ice is out of Rangeley," 

There's a meaning then to life, 
And a call to drop dull business 

And desert our home and wife; 
For there's weighty matters waiting, 

And the time is then at hand 
For the fishing clan to gather 

In the chosen Promised Land. 

Oh, "the ice is out of Rangeley!" 

And the market can go hang! 
For the swishing silken trout line sings 

As sirens never sang; 
And the ripple of the paddle 

Shines like silver in our wake 
When the moon comes up to guide us 

To our camp across the lake. 



[22] 



[fjtlfJtl^ PIPE DREAMS Cg3C^Qpqp 

AT THE PASTURE BARS 

" Coo, boss ! Coo, boss ! " Hark to the milk- 
maid calling! 
"Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" The evening shades 
are falling. 
"Come, Spot! come, Mollie! come, Su- 

key! come, Bess! 
Come, lazy ones! How can I milk you 
unless 
You come to the pasture bars?" 

"Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" The birds their 

vespers sing. 
"Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" The swallows home- 
ward w^ng. 
And, loitering past the fields of grain. 
The cows adown the winding lane 
Come to the pasture bars. 

"Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" Mounts the ca- 
dence of that call. 
" Coo, boss ! Coo, boss ! " The rhythmic rise 
and fall 
Of the milkmaid's voice is a siren song 
That lures my steps, like the cows', along 
The path to the pasture bars. 

[23] 



Ctitit3[M3PIPE D RE AMSCtit3C?3[tit] 



THE MAID WHO WAITS FOR ME 

A little brown maid in a sunlit land, 

By the shore of a sunlit sea, 
'Neath the waving palms, by the wave-lapped 
strand, 

Watches and waits for me. 

The tropic moon, as it sails above 
That land by the murm'ring sea. 

Is a beacon light to my own true love 
And the maid who waits for me. 

And the summer breeze, like a voice that 
charms. 

Lures me o'er the sleeping sea 
To that far-off shore and the longing arms 

Of the maid who waits for me. 



[24] 



C^Cg3Cg3[t][t3 PIPE DREAMS CglC^rtlCgXg] 



FIRELIGHT FANCIES 

While the flickering firelight dances on my 
lonely hearth to-night 

Comes a flood of memory-fancies, setting care 
and pain to flight, 

And I dream with tender musing of my boy- 
hood on the farm, — 

Of that rainbow-hued and joyous time of 
childhood on the farm. 

Now the shining eyes of loved ones smile back 
at me from the flames, 

While the echo of their laughter wakens mem- 
ories of the games 

That we played in happy childhood, as we 
roamed about the farm, — 

In that distance-dimmed and joyous time of 
childhood on the farm. 

And the air seems heavy-laden with the scented 
breath of flowers 

Growing wild upon the hillside where I 
dreamed away the hours 

Of the drowsy, happy summers of my boyhood 
on the farm, — 

In that Heaven-sent and peaceful time of child- 
hood on the farm. 

[25] 



[titXgX^C^PI PE D RE AH S[M3CTOCg3 

THE AGE-LONG PLAINT 

The deeds we would, but have not done, 
The words we have not said, 

The loves we craved and were denied, 
The hopes now cold and dead; 

The pictures we could never paint, 

The songs that died unsung. 
The books we would, but could not write, — 
Life's vibrant harp unstrung; 

The glowing thoughts that fired our brain ; 

Ambition, pride, and all, — 
Like lilies on their slender stems. 

That flourish but to fall. 

Fond hopes of youth and sober age 

That dwindled to decay, 
The ashes of a rose-hued past 

That Fate has blown awav ! 



[26] 



Ct3[t3Cgjti:^ P I P E PRE AnSCg3C^3CgXgX!3 

THE IRON TRAIL 

Over rivers, under mountains, 

From the ocean to the plains. 

Stretch the shining bands of iron. 
Sounds the rushing of the trains. 

We have staked the bounds of empire. 
We have blazed the iron trail. 

We have linked the golden future 
With the spiking of a rail. 

We have toiled and we have hungered. 
We have fought with man and beast. 

And we bring a golden harvest 
To the markets of the East. 

We have bound the States together 
With a bond that never'll fail, — 

Set the pulse of trade to throbbing 
All along the iron trail. 



[27] 



[t3C!3C^Ct3C?3 PIPE DREAMS it^lt^pt^ 



DAPHNE 

I have seen the sunrise breaking on the shores 

of distant seas, 
I have seen the mists of evening creeping 

slow across the leas 
To the borderland of twilight when the birds 

were winging home, 
And the air was filled with sweetness from 

the newly furrowed loam; 
But the wondrous tints of evening and the 

glory of the skies 
Cannot move my soul to gladness like a smile 

from Daphne's eyes. 

I have heard the chimes of church bells faintly 

echoing on the breeze, 
I have heard the south wind sighing soft 

and low among the trees 
When the moon had bathed the hill-tops in a 

weird and magic glow, 
And her wake was traced in silver on the river 

far below; 
But the sweetest strains of music cannot 

make my heart rejoice 
Like the love-notes, low and tender, that I 

hear in Daphne's voice. 
[28] 



:pt^lt^ PIPE D REAMS CM^C^^COT 



WHILE MADGE AND I ARE 
SWINGING 

The sunlight glimmers through the vine 
That round the oak is clinging, 

And wild-flowers nod their heads at us 
While Madge and I are swinging. 

The apple-trees are white with bloom, 
Soft winds their sweet scent bringing 

To where the squirrels fearless play 
While Madge and I are swinging. 

The fleecy clouds go sailing by, 

The birds with joy are singing. 

And all the world is glad with us 

When Madge and I are swinging. 



[29] 



CgXtitiMiPI PE D RE AnSCtit3cglM3 



THE UNKNOWN LAND 

There's a maiden fair, with wondrous hair, 
Who waits with a smile for me, 
Where the sunbeams gleam like a golden 
stream 

On the shores of the perfumed sea. 

From the clover bloom the wild bee sips. 
And the drooping willows with trembling 

tips 
Touch eager leaves to the water's lips; 

And there's never a cloud in the sky. 

And never a frow^n, and never a sigh, 
In the beautiful Unknown Land. 

In the beautiful Unknown Land, 
Where the streamlets glide 
Through the meadows wide 

With a love-song soft and low, 

A maiden fair waits to greet me there 

In the sunset's golden glow. 



[30] 



(t^lt^rflp^ PIPE DREAMS ^m^^t^ 



THE VETERAN'S CALL TO ARMS 

Shine up the dear old bugle 

That's been silent for so long, 

And again we'll tread the measure ' 
Of our old-time battle song: 

The vanished years have cooled our blood 
Since Sherman led the throng, 

But our hearts are still as loyal to Old Glory. 

Take down the battered musket 
From its hooks upon the wall, 

And the old canteen and knapsack, 
Bayonet, cartridge-box, and all; 

Patch up the faded suit of blue 

That we donned at Old Abe's call. 

And "fall in" to guard the honor of Old Glory. 

Unfurl the tattered battle-flag 

Whose hues have duller grown 

Since the glory of its presence 

Hallowed graves that War had sown. 

As of old, our souls are quickened 

When the need for men is known, 

And we're ready still to battle for Old Glory. 



[31] 



(Vcpt^t^ PIPE DREAMS C!3[t3CgXgJ^ 

EN PASSANT! 

Clarice, thou slender maid and sweet, 

Behold me prostrate at thy feet! 
For' me existence were divine, 
Might I claim your dear hand for mine! 

Helen holds my heart in thrall, 

So fair is she, — divinely tall; 

Her every move instinct with grace 
Bespeaks the pride of name and race. 

Fair Alice, with her dreamy eyes 
And hair the hue of midnight skies 

And lips to tempt a monk's desires, 
With dreams of bliss my soul inspires. 

Mignon, with tender eyes of blue. 
Compels my passion warm and true. 
Her hair is like a fairy dell 
Where glinting sunbeams love to dwell. 

And thou, my queenly Claribel, 
O haughty maid! I love thee well: 
To thee responds my ardent soul 
As turns the magnet to the pole. 

[32] 



'ipt^rr^if} PIPE DREAMS [t]Cg3Ct]cg3C^ 

A score of others I might name 

With whom I've played Love's old sweet game, 
And often thought I loved one best, 
But found, alas! I loved the rest. 



MOTHER EARTH 

Earth mothers the spawn of a seething brood. 

Restless, dominant, wild! 
Sends Man forth in the pride of life. 

Calls him her best -loved child ; 
Gives him to play with the toys of power; 
Amuses him thus for a fleeting hour; 

Patiently waits till the play is past; 

Gathers him back to her breast at last, 
Brooding old Mother Earth! 



[33] 



[t][f3[t][t3[t3PlPE PRE AnSCgJM3C!l$3 

THE TALE OF THE ANCIENT 
MARINER 

I strolled one day in a careless way 
Where the ships sail out to sea, 
And a sailor old, with a manner bold. 
Cast a glowering glance on me. 

"Good sailor man, you doubtless can," 
Said I, "spin a yarn to me 
That reeks with gore, — of the days of yore. 
When pirates scoured the sea." 

" Yo, ho!" he cried, and the green waves eyed. 
"Shipmate, take a seat by me. 
And listen well to the tale I tell, — 
A terrible tale of the sea. 

" Your heart will thrill and your blood will chill 
And your flesh will creep," said he, 
"When the tale you're told of the pirate bold, 
Which the same it was told to me: 

"The pirate trod his bloody deck — 
His bloody deck trod he; 
And he cast an eye at the rolling waves, — 
At the rolling waves looked he; 

[34] 



Ct3[t]Cg]Ct][ri PIPE DREAMS Cg3[t3[tiM3 

"And he says, says he, 'Fetch yonder maid — 
Fetch yonder maid to me. 
And let her choose 'tween the sea and me — 
'Tween me and the sea,' says he. 

"'For long I've loved that haughty maid — 
I've loved her long,' says he : 
'Unless she'll marry me now, I swear 
I'll throw her into the sea.' 

"The maid gazed long at the pirate bold. 
And she gazed at the heaving sea; 
She gazed at the crew and the clouds so blue, 
And 'I guess it is up to me,' 

"She said with a sigh and a downcast eye, 
'To marry you now,' says she. 
The pirate called for his parson bold — 
For his parson bold called he, 

"And the parson married them then and there 
As tight as tight could be. 
But the pirate found, ere a year had fled — 
Ere a year had fled found he 

"That the maid was more than a match for 

him — 
More than a match was she. 

[35] 



lp[pptlf} PIPE DREAMS rMimi^ 

* 'Od's blood ! ' he groaned, with horrid oaths — 
With horrid oaths groaned he, 

"*Is there never a spot in the whole wide 

world — 
Is there never a spot on the sea, 
Where I may look for a moment's peace — 
For a moment's peace ? ' groaned he. 

"*When Bloody Mike and One-eared Ike 

And a dozen more and me 

Raised chests of gold from the Spaniard's 

hold— 
From the Spaniard's hold,' says he, 

"'And hung the crew and the captain, too. 
In a manner bold and free, 
I little knew, as the wild winds blew. 
The trouble in store for me. 

*"A hundred men have walked the plank — 
Have walked the plank,' says he, 

* Or danced on air with a glassy stare 
To furnish sport for me. 

"'The blood I've spilled and the men I've 

killed 
Were a terrible sight to see, 

[36] 



Ctltlt3C^PIPE PRE AnSC!3C^lt3[M3 

But my nerves are steel and I never feel 
The slightest regret/ says he. 

"*But now, alas! there has come to pass, 
A grievous curse on me : 
I rule my band with an iron hand, 
But a womaris tongue rules me!''* 



TRIOLET 

Accept this pledge, my lady fair 
Of my unending love for thee. 

Though with thy face 'twill not compare. 

Accept this pledge, my lady fair. 

I pray thee wear it in thy hair 
In token of my love for thee. 

Accept this pledge, my lady fair. 
Of my unending love for thee. 



[37] 



it^ltW^^P IPE DREAMS C^Ct3(t3C^[t3 



THAT SUMMER LONG AGO 

To-night, sweetheart, I see your face 
In the embers' dying glow, 

And in the night wind hear the songs 
You sang long years ago. 



We were happy then, and careless, love, — 
Life's troubles yet to know, — 

And all the world was glad with us 
That summer long ago. 

The sun shone brightly then, dear love, 

But rivalled not the glow 
That lingered in your own sweet eyes 

So many years ago. 

The flowers that bloomed beside our path 

Could never hope to grow 
As fair as you seemed, dear, to me 

In the days of long ago. 

The birds sang sweetly to their mates 
In the sunset's golden glow. 

But not so sweetly as you sang 
To me so long ago. 

[38] 



ipt^rr]:f] PIPE DREAMS c^rt^c^^c^^ 

The air was full of melody 

When you whispered soft and low 
The words I never shall forget, 

Though 'twas so long ago. 

I've wandered since in distant lands, 
And viewed life's bravest show, 

And still I love you as I did 
So many years ago. 

But now the hillside where you sleep, 
'Neath willows drooping low. 

Is white with daisies as it was 
That summer long ago. 



[39] 



:pt^ti^^ PIPE DREAMS tt][tiMltj 



FRISCO'S PRAYER 

*'Dear Lord, I never took a hand in this here 

prayin' game before, 
But Bill's cashed in his chips, an' we're all 

feelin' sore 
Because th' show-down wasn't square; 
An' seems to me that somewheres over there 
In that fair land th' parson tells about 
There ought to be some spot where Bill could 

stake a claim out, 
For Bill was white. Dear Lord, just chalk it 

down. 
There never was a squarer man struck town 
Than Bill. He'd sell his shirt to buy a friend 

a meal; 
An' once, when Limpy Pedro tried to steal 
His dust, an' some of us had roped him when 

he fled, 
'Perhaps th' cuss was hungry, let him go,' 

was all Bill said. 
You might have thought sometimes that he 

was wild; 
But, Lord, his heart was tender as a little child. 
He had his faults, of course, — ^the best man 

sometimes slips; 

[40] 



it^cMlpt^ PIPE DREAMS [tlt][Mlt3 

But, Lord, just let him have a fair show for 

his chips. 
An', if he trumps when he should follow suit, 
Please bear in mind he's just a plain galoot 
Who shoves his chips in smilin' when he shows 
A losin' hand, an' tries to play th' game th' 

best he knows." 



THE PATRIOT 

When Eteocles, at the seventh gate of Thebes, 
Polynices 'gaged in mortal strife. 

His country's weal supreme o'er ties of blood 
he held. 
And valued honor more than life. 

So the true patriot, at his country's call, 

All ties forsakes, her cry for help to heed, 

And studies not his own advantage, but to give 
His country succor in her hour of need. 



[41] 



rptifif]ii;} PIPE DREAMS C^C^rMi 

WHUT'S DE USE? 

Whut's de use o' hoardin' money ? 

Yo' cain't spend hit when yo're dead; 
Whut's de use o' bein' stingy, 

When so many cain't git bread ? 

Whut's de use o' bein' haughty ? 

Whut's de use o' bein' proud ? 
Dere's heaps o' smarter men den yo' is 

Cuts no figger in er crowd. 

Whut's de use o' bein' gloomy ? 

Whut's de use o' bein' sad ? 
In de darkest hour o' trouble 

Dere's some reason ter be glad. 

Whut's de use o' bein' graspin' — 
Lookin' f er yo' pound o' flesh ? 

Lak ez not some shiftless nigger 

Wid yo' help might start afresh. 

Yo'll git mo' pleasure out er givin' 

Den receivin', any day; 
Ef yo're only mind ter think so, 

Dere's mo' fun in work den play. 

[42] 



[TjctiticgDcyiP IPE DREAMS rM^it^ifif^ 

Jes' stop er bit an' look erbout yo' ; 

See de hulks dat strew life's shore, 
Den shuck yo' coat an' holp ter float dem 

On de tide o' hope once more. 



IN THE TIME OF THE HARVEST 
MOON 

Oh, Love is sweet joy in the Springtime, 
And Love is sweet joy in June, 

But tender and true and joyous, too, 
Is the Love of the Harvest Moon. 

For many will love in the Springtime, 
And many will love in June, 

But, ah! so few are tender and true 
In the time of the Harvest Moon. 



[43] 



C^lMlt3C^PIPE PRE AnSC!x!3[M3[t3 



THE SAME OLD SEASON 

The same old Christmas will soon be here, 
With the same old joys to share, — 

With the same old games we always play. 
The same old punch, and the same old 
fare. 

We'll respond to the same old query, 

"Will you have dark meat or light?" 

And, whether we take the light or dark, 
'Tis the same old bird, all right. 

There'll be the same old Christmas tree. 
Decked out in the same old way, — 

With the same old toys, the same popcorn, 
The same old Santa, and the same old 
sleigh. 

There'll be the same old horns to blow. 
The same old candles to burn; 

And the same red wagon under the tree — 
With wheels that refuse to turn. 

Under the same old mistletoe bough 
We shall find the same old miss. 

With the same old patient, expectant air — 
Still in wait for the same old kiss. 

[44] 



iti^;ipt^ PIPE DREAMS c^rM^ 

The same smug babe will be there, too, 
And require the same old praise, 

(And the same old fib, "How like his pa!") 
Expressed in the same old ways. 

We'll make the same old presents. 

And receive the same old things, — 

The same old slippers (a size too small), 

The same old books, and the same old 
rings. 

The same old Christmas will soon be here, 
With the same old joys to share; 

And God be praised in the same old way 
If the same old faces greet us there! 



[45 



C^[t][t3[t]Ct] PIPE PRE A M S ipit^rpcf} 



BA'TISTE'S BEEG FEESH 

Wan tarn mon pere, he catch a feesh 
So beeg she look lak whale: 
She's mos' so long as t'ree, four feet 
From wan end to her tail. 

Mon pere, he pull zat feesh right up, 
He Ian' her on ze shore. 
An' zen, Mon Dieu ! she flop her tail. 
An' he don't see her some more. 

Mon pere, he brag some 'bout zat feesh, 
Wen he go down to ze store. 
An' tell how beeg an' long she vas, — 
Bimeby he brag some more. 

Till pretty soon ol' man Brosseau, 
He laugh an' say, "It's wrong 
To brag much 'bout ze feesh you catch 
'Less you bring zat feesh along." 

Mon pere, he's mad, an' jomp up queek. 
An' bang him on ze head; 
Till w'en they pick ol' Brosseau up, 
By Gar! you's tank he's dead. 

[46] 



C!3C!3C^C!3[t] PIPE DREAMS Ct][tit]Ct][t3 

Mon pere, he's go to jail for zat, 
An' he get fine forty dol'; 
He's stay lock up for wan long tarn, 
So he can't go feesh at all. 



It seems to me lak wan sure t'ing, 
An' ze moral is, *'It's wrong 
To brag much 'bout ze feesh you catch, 
'Less you bring zat feesh along." 



RECOMPENSE 

To sing a song as we go along 

(Though with pain the heart's a-quiver) 
Will lighten the way on the grayest day, 

As gifts enrich the giver. 



[47] 



^^OTX?3PIPE DREAM SltW^Pt^ 



COY FAME 

There lived a dreamy poet once 

In old St. Botolph's town, 
Who wrote much weird and soulful verse 

That brought him great renown; 
For none could understand it, 

However hard they tried, 
And those who most endeavored to 

Soon gave it up or died. 
His sonnets were most wondrous things. 

With themes that soared sublime, 
And wove in words of mystery 

That never chanced to rhyme. 
No one could grasp their meaning. 

So all made haste to say, 
"How grand! How sweet! How simple! 

They're transparent as the day!" 
So this dreamy poet scribbled 

Reams of verse that quickly sold, 
And gathered in much glory. 

Likewise a lot of gold. 
And when at last he came to die 

They planted him with care. 
And raised a lofty shaft inscribed, 

"Here lies a genius rare!" 

[48] 



Ct3[t][t]c^c!3 PIPE DREAMS it^lMlf} 

The moral I would point is this: 
Would you be rich and grand, 

Just write a lot of soulful stuff 
That none can understand. 



RUTH 

I know a little maiden, passing fair, 

With glinting gleams of sunbeams in her hair, 

And in her eyes a look most wise, 
When mirth and mischief lurk not there. 

This little maiden, with her soul of truth 
And winsome, 'witching sweetnesses of youth. 

Now grave, now gay, and lovable alway, — 
This little maiden's name is Ruth. 



[49] 



:f}Jt^rfif^ PIPE DREAMS rtictic^rtjct] 



THE POINT OF VIEW 

A rich man and a poor man met by chance 

one day, 
And a beggar by the roadside heard the rich 

man say: 
"Oh that I were as happy, as strong, and 

free from care 
As yonder stalwart fellow! Then, indeed, 

would the world seem fair. 
Were I rid of my tiresome millions, my houses 

and stocks and bonds, 
I'd glean my joy from the hillsides, from the 

woods and fields and ponds, 
I'd roam o'er my new-found kingdom, like a 

boy from school set free. 
And the goddess of false riches would beckon 

in vain to me. 
But, no! I miist carry the burden that rests 

on me day and night, 
And walk with a sure and steady step lest it 

bury me from sight." 
The rich man sighed and went his way, and 

the beggar mused the while 
Till the poor man came that way once more, 

and lingered by the stile. 

[50] 



Ct]C^C!3Cg3C!3 PIPE DREAFIS it^lt^lt^ 

" Had I but that rich man's millions," the 

beggar heard him sigh, 
"Dear Mollie should go to a sunnier clime, 

not linger here — ^to die. 
Ah, Mollie! Ne'er was a wife more true. Is 

it God who bids us part ? 
Or is it a poor man's poverty that's helping to 

break my heart ? 
'Tis hard to know that the shining gold he 

scatters with careless hand 
Would bring to your cheeks their olden bloom, 

like the touch of a fairy's wand; 
But he to his idle pleasure goes, while I, as 

the days go by, 
For the lack of what he would never miss, 

must helplessly watch you die." 



The beggar mused on the problem old, while 

the poor man went his way. 
Till the moon crept up to find him there, 

content with his bed of hay; 
And at last he uttered this maxim wise: 

"'Who climbs not does not fall.' 
So it seems to me," the beggar said, "I'm the 

happiest, after all." 



[51] 



ltlt^[ppV PIPE DREAMS rflf^lptlf} 



THE MEN OF FORTY-MILE 

They fought with cold in their search for gold 

In the land of the Polar Zone, 
Driving a pick in the ice-cap thick 

While their fingers froze to the bone. 

They slept like logs, and they ate their dogs 
(When grub ran low) with a smile, 

And would pass up a plate for "more o' that 
steak," 
Would the men of Forty-Mile. 

They were brave and bluff, and their ways 
were rough. 

For they faced Death every day 
While they delved in the soil with bitterest toil. 

And counted their work as play. 

Their language might shock ears polite, 
And praying was not their style; 

But they'd grit to burn, when it came their 
turn. 
Had those men of Forty-Mile. 



[52] 



:m^^^ PIPE DREAMS [ticticgitit] 



MOLLIS DEAR 

We have journeyed long together, 

Mollie dear. 
We have faced some stormy weather, 

Mollie dear. 
We have felt both joy and pain, 
We have had both loss and gain. 
As the sunshine follows rain, 

Mollie dear. 

As Life's pathway we have trod, 

Mollie dear, 
O'er the rocks and on the sod, 

Mollie dear. 
When our feet w^ere bruised and torn 
And our hearts were weak and worn, 
By our love we were upborne, 

Mollie dear. 

June was joyous when we met, 

Mollie dear; 
And our love is tender yet, 

Mollie dear. 
Now your hair is white as snow. 
And to me you seem to grow 
Fairer than long years ago, 

Mollie dear. 

[53] 



C!xWx!3[t3 PIPE DREAMS it^^pt^lf^ 

We have come through joy and tears, 

Mollie dear, 
To the sunset of our years, 

Mollie dear. 
While the shadows round us creep, 
By your side I'll closer keep : 
Hand in hand we'll fall asleep, 

Mollie dear. 



QUATRAIN 

On grief that's yet to come or pleasure flown, 
Why waste a thought ? The rose that's blown 

Has lost its fragrance on the desert air ; 
And who knows the harvest ere the seed is 
sown ? 



[54] 



Cg^CgX^JM^ PIPE DREAMS [M^C^C^ 



THE MASTER POWER 

The ice-locked stream, like a poet's dream, 

Waiting the waking hour, 
At the swift sweet bliss of the Sun God's kiss 

Thrilled to the master power. 
The morn's soft light bathed its bosom white 

Till it stirred to its inmost deep. 
And its soul lay bare in its beauty rare 

When it woke from its winter sleep. 

The maiden's heart, in a world apart. 

Waiting the waking hour. 
At the swift sweet bliss of a lover's kiss 

Thrilled to the master power. 
Love's flame leaped bright in her bosom white 

Till it stirred to its inmost deep, 
And her soul lay bare in its beauty rare 

When it woke from its virgin sleep. 



The ice-locked stream and the maiden's heart, 

With joy, when their bonds were free. 
Each cast on the altar of love their charms, — 
The maid sped swift to her lover's arms, 
And the stream to the distant sea. 

. , [55] 



[t3[t3Ct3Ct][t3 PIPE DREAMS Ct3Ct3Ct3Ct3Ct3 



NEW ENGLAND'S HILLS 

SPRING 
Always with garlands Spring delights to crown 

New England's hills, 
x\lways the shy arbutus hastes to welcome the 

laughing rills; 
And always the winding valleys, stretching 

away between, 
Astir with the mystic springtime, are clothed 

with a living green. 

SUMMER 

Always the clouds sail high and white over New 
England's hills. 

And always the silver sheen is seen of a thou- 
sand laughing rills. 

Dancing their way with a merry lilt down to 
the valleys green. 

With their plenteous charms of smiling farms 
stretching away between. 

AUTUMN 

iVlways a motley robe is spread over New Eng- 
land's hills, 

And its gold and crimson threads float down 
along with the laughing rills: 

[56] 



it^cM^^ PIPE DREAMS CglM3CM3 

Always their aisles are carpeted with Nature's 

wondrous weaves, 
And the warp and woof of her tapestry are the 

rustling fallen leaves. 

WINTER 
Always the Frost King holds his court on the 

bleak New England hills, 
And his impish elves with bands of steel fetter 

the laughing rills; 
Always the hills are robed in white, and a 

wondrous sight is seen 
When the sunshine plays like a stream of fire 

over its crystal sheen. 



[57] 



(pt^lpt^^p P I P E DREAMS C^Cg3[t3C!Jt3 



O WASHINEE 

When the rosy flush of morn, 

O Washinee, 
Comes to greet me with the dawn, 

O Washinee, 
And the red deer comes to drink. 
Standing fearless at your brink, 
There's no fairer sight, I think, 

O Washinee. 

When the sable robe of night, 

O Washinee, 
Hides your distant shores from sight, 

O Washinee, 
xAnd the stars blink in the sky. 
Through the silence, like a sigh, 
Floats the loon's sad, eerie cry, 

O Washinee. 

Fairest gem of all you are, 

O Washinee, 
Gleaming like a jewelled star, 

O Washinee; 
And your mirrored surface seems 
Like the mirages of dreams 
'Neath the moonbeams' silvery gleams, 

O Washinee. 

[58] 



Cg3[tjCgX!3C!3 PIPE DREAMS Ct3CY3C^[f][t3 

In your depths the lake trout sulks, 

O Washmee; 
On your shores the wildcat skulks, 

O Washinee; 
Where your rice fields scatter seed, 
There their flocks the wild geese lead, 
And the black duck comes to feed, 

O Washinee. 

I have heard your wild waves roar, 

O Washinee, 
As they beat upon the shore, 

O Washinee; 
And I've fled with sails close furled 
From their angry crests, white curled, 
At my craft with fury hurled, 

O Washinee. 

I have loved your every mood, 

O Washinee, 
Were it gentle, were it rude, 

O Washinee. 
Happy days forever past, 
With too much of joy to last. 
By your side sped all too fast, 

O Washinee. 



[59] 



[t3[t3[t3Ct]C^PIPE PRE AnSCt3CgJt3C^[t] 



"VANITY OF VANITIES" 

Brief the play our parts are cast in; small the 

stage on which we tread; 
Trivial things engross us, living; sound our 

sleep when we are dead. 
Time's effacing flood engulfs us, sweeps us 

and our works away; 
Where the desert sands are drifting, ruled an 

empire yesterday. 
Many feet have trod the measure, prince and 

pauper, saint and knave; 
Human loves and joys and sorrows pave a 

pathway to the grave. 
Rarest joy is born of sorrow, and, like sorrow, 

cannot last. 
On the altar of dead pleasures lie the ashes of 

the past. 



[60] 



[t][t][t][t][t] PIPE DREAMS [t]Cg][t][t][t3 



THE WAVES ALONG THE SHORE 

Far away, like distant music, 

Sounds the murmur of the sea, 
While it gives the wind a message 

From the silent past to me; 
And I hear the words of loved ones 

Faintly echoed o'er and o'er 
In the distance-softened murmur 

Of the waves along the shore. 

When the summer sun is shining, 

And the sails far out at sea. 
Like white birds on the horizon. 

Gravely curtesy to me, 
Comes the whisper of the ocean, 

Sad, sweet tones I loved of yore, 
And the plaintive moan and murmur 

Of the waves along the shore. 

Like the rhythmic throb of organ, 

With its diapason vast. 
Swells the chorus of the ocean 

With its message from the past. 
Till the wild winds wrap the mainland, 

And the breakers' sullen roar 
[61] 



Cg^C^jCtiCgDrt] PIPE DREAMS Ctjc^CgPC^Prt] 

Tolls the knell of shipwrecked sailors, 
x\s they beat upon the shore. 

When the sea-gulls whirl in circles 

Far above the distant sea, 
Comes a vision of my childhood. 

Fraught with memories to me, — 
Comes a sound of children's laughter. 

As they race along the shore, 
By the distance-softened murmur 

Of the waves along the shore. 

By my door I sit, a-dreaming 

Of the years forever past, 
While the summer sun is shining 

And the time is speeding fast 
To the day for which I'm w^aiting, 

When I shall hear no more 
The plaintive moan and murmur 

Of the waves along the shore. 



[62] 



iM^lt^^lf} P I PE DREAMS [ticM^^^ 



PROTEST 

We've opened our doors to Europe, we've 

welcomed her teeming hordes; 
We've beaten the peaceful ploughshare from 

the blades of our idle swords; 
We've welcomed the stupid Moujik, the Slav 

and the Hun and Finn, 
And the dregs of foreign gutters, with their 

squalor and filth and sin. 
Go look at our ports of entry, where the hordes 

come streaming in. 
With forms grown gaunt with hunger and 

faces seamed with sin, 
Who have squandered their lives in labor, and 

hunger and debt and pain, 
Till the innocent truth of a vanished youth can 

never come back again; 
W^hose children are born in travail and nurt- 
ured in woe and want. 
Whose eyes have seen only sorrow and whose 

faces are pale and gaunt; 
Who have eaten the crust of hunger and slept 

on the bed of pain. 
Who have slaved from the dawn of the early 

light till the sun went down again. 

[63] 



[t3[t)[M3C^ PIPE DREAMS lt^[ptJtlfi 

How long shall we bear the burden, how long 

shall we be the prey 
And the dumping-ground of Europe for the 

stuff she would throw away ? 



THE CHIEFEST GIFT 

Love, fame, or wealth, — were either mine for 
choosing. 
Think you that I would long debate ? 
Possessing love, I'd laugh at fate confusing. 
And tread life's thorn-strewn path with 
soul elate. 



[64] 



lycflpm^ PIPE DREAMS C^CtiticTO 



ON THE OLD BARN DOOR 

I wonder, Jane, if you remember — 

Sixty years ago, or more — 
How I carved our names together 

On the old barn door ? 

How I carved a heart and arrow — 
Emblems prized in lovers' lore — 

And entwined our names around them 
On the old barn door ? 

I can see just how you looked, Jane, 
While you stood there by my side, 

And remember how my heart thrilled 
With a boyish love and pride. 

You were but a blue-eyed child then. 

And your cheeks were round and red; 

And as soft as golden corn silk 

Were the curls upon your head. 

And the kiss you gave me, simply, 

With an innocence sublime, 
Lingers still upon my lips, Jane, 

After all that lapse of time. 

[65] 



cfltKijip^ PIPE DREAMS it^^tW^flf] 

Memory drew my steps to-day, Jane, 
To the old farm-house once more. 

And I found our names engraved there 
On the old barn door. 

Time had blurred the earven letters, 

And the moss of many years 
So obscured them I could hardly 

Trace their shaping through my tears. 

When my name is carved again, Jane, 
I would ask for nothing more 

Than some kindly hand to trace it 
On the old barn door. 



[66] 



[t^lt^Cpt^ PIPE DREAMS Ctic^CgJC^^ 



LET'S GO A-FISHING 

The morn is young. Its rosy gleam 
Lights all the surface of the stream — 
Let's go a-fishing. 

The dew is still upon the grass: 
'Twill shine like diamonds as we pass — 
Come, try the fishing. 

The birds will greet us with a song: 
We'll light our pipes and jog along — 
To go a-fishing. 

The air is sweet beneath the pines 
As choice bouquet of rare old wines — 
When going fishing. 

I know where trout lurk in a pool 
That's deep and still, and dark and cool- 
They wait our fishing. 

A Silver Doctor, cast with care, 
May lure them from their deepest lair — 
Haste to the fishing. 

Or Stranger, Toodle Bug, or Tim, 
May tempt them to the pool's dark rim— 
If we go fishing. 

[67] 



Cg3Cg3Ct]Ctlt3 PIPE DREAMS Jt^^t^^t^^t^ 

A Parmachenee Belle we'll try 
If they should happen to be shy — 
While we are fishing. 

And, oh, the peace that we shall feel 
If we bring back a well-lined creel — 
When we go fishing! 

For there's no sport, however rare, 
That to my mind can half compare — 
With going fishing. 



[68] 



[M3^^^PIPE PRE Ansc^iM^rM] 

THE GIRLS WE'VE LOVED 

The girls we've loved in the yesteryears 

Were winsome girls, and fair; 
And some had eyes like sapphires blue, 

And some had golden hair. 

And some had rosy cheeks, and lips 
That oft in smiles would part; 

And each has left some tender touch 
Of romance in our heart. 

To singing-schools and husking-bees 
We went as squires of dames 

With shy, untutored coquetries 

And sweet old-fashioned names: 

Such names as Ruth and Abigail, 

Or Patience, Prue, or those 
That from the family Bible's store 

Their doting parents chose. 

At dances in the raftered barns 

The wondering kine looked on 

While we in minuet and reel 

Tripped gayly till the morn. 

[69] 



iprimn^ PIPE DREAMS ^flM^t^ 

And when the maple sap in spring 
Dripped sweetly in the trough, 

We trooped through snow-drifts deep to join 
The joys of "sugaring off." 

Dear comrades were the girls we loved, 
Who shared our joys and woes: 

I fear me 'tw^ould be hard to find 
The equals now of those. 

Then here's the toast I offer you, — 

Let glass to glass touch rim: 
"Here's to our loves of the yesteryears — 

God bless their memories dim!" 



[70] 



c?3C?3C?3[t][t3 PIPE DREAMS rf^it^it^it^ 



VALENTINE 

Sunrise and morning mist. 

And after that the day, 
And at the shore one swift farewell 

Ere I must sail away. 

Noontide and fainting heart. 
And one cool drink for me. 

And your dear lips in prayer to guide 
My argosies at sea. 

Sunset and curfew bell. 

And waves that curl and foam. 
And beaming far your beacon light 

To guide me safely home. 

Twilight and tivinkling stars. 

And one true heart for mine, 

And on Life's voyage to its end 
ril be your valentine. 



[71] 




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